


Save the Last Dance for Me

by Fairfaxleasee



Series: Fenris/Cassia [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Blackmail, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dancing, F/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairfaxleasee/pseuds/Fairfaxleasee
Summary: A masked stranger approaches Viscount Cassia Hawke at an Orlesian Masque.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke, Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age)
Series: Fenris/Cassia [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141970
Kudos: 3





	Save the Last Dance for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt me on Tumblr at https://fairfaxleasee.tumblr.com/promptlist
> 
> Thanks to @blondetexan and @xqueen0fhellx for betaing!

Cassia Hawke surveyed the scene around her with disappointed contempt. She wasn’t sure  _ how _ an event for which she had no expectations whatsoever could disappoint her, but she wasn’t particularly surprised the Orlesians had managed it.

_ This is all Bran’s fault! If I didn’t know better, I’d swear my mother wasn’t dead and was giving him instructions on how to torture me… _

At the thought of her mother and the  _ years _ the woman had dragged her to similar events, Cass adjusted her grip on the glass she was holding and pressed down on the crystal hard enough to crack it. She shot the thing an annoyed glare and looked around for some flat surface to abandon it on. She hadn’t even wanted the stupid champagne in the first place, however it became abundantly clear within about three minutes of being at the party that she needed some sort of prop to keep every idiot man there from trying to press a drink into her hands as an excuse to make conversation.

She’d  _ thought _ the dress she was wearing would be enough to keep people from being stupid and approaching her. She was fairly certain it was what had started the ‘Ice Queen’ name (well, it and the fact that she had zero interest in even  _ entertaining _ the possibility of a romantic entanglement with Fergus Cousland, or any other ‘eligible bachelor’ for that matter) - ice blue, black and white crystal accents, layers of chiffon and gossamer in the skirt and sleeves. Combined with the raw crystal crown she favored and just how pale her skin looked when she lined her eyes with heavy kohl and applied the deep berry stain to her lips, she could see where people could get the impression that she was some sort of frozen statue. And that’s the impression she had  _ wanted _ to give off here; that she was something dangerous to approach, that anyone who got too close or - maker forbid - actually touched her would get nothing but bitter, biting cold.  _ But it wasn’t working _ . No matter how viciously she shredded the egos and desires of the men who kept approaching, there was another  _ fool _ just  _ waiting  _ to take his place. Convinced that somehow for some reason,  _ he _ would be the one to melt the Ice Queen, or some such idiotic rot; maybe if she paid more attention to the wastes of space that were wasting her time she’d be better at brushing them off, but they were just  _ so _ mundane and  _ infruiatingly _ deluded. And that delusion kept them coming. And talking.

And one of the few things Cass hated more than being at parties was talking to people at parties. And that moronic Seneschal who seemed to view her as some kind of curio that only had possible value in being able to trade it for what he’d wanted in the first place she was stuck with must have spent most of the past month playing up all her ‘desirable’ attributes (rich, Viscount, saved a city from ‘heathen’ invaders, human with breasts) while sweeping the ones she preferred (encyclopedic knowledge of poisons, toxins, and venoms; knew where to hit a man to keep him from getting up; body count that included Prosper de Montfort;  _ perfectly happy with Fenris _ ) under the rug, trying to ensure men  _ would _ come over to talk at her.

When she had agreed to be Viscount after what Anders did to the Chantry, she’d  _ assumed _ the position would be limited to basic civil governmental duties - taxation, budget, criminal and civil codes, infrastructure: topics that lent themselves to the kind of logical, detailed analysis she was good at. She’d had  _ no idea _ that Bran would decide that the fact that she wasn’t married would warrant pushing her into the starring role in some romance play she was  _ positive _ people were betting on (no matter how many times Varric denied it to her face - just because the dwarf was smart enough not to be  _ running _ the game didn’t mean he wasn’t  _ in on _ the game, like he’d miss the opportunity to leverage his inside knowledge and place a large bet on an ‘underdog’ like Fenris).

That was what she was doing in this particular torture chamber. She knew she didn’t have a choice about being in Halamshiral for Empress Celene’s birthday party… or anniversary of something… or for all she knew the woman had just found a dress she’d forgotten about and wanted an excuse to wear it (although if it hadn’t been for the visit to Starkhaven she’d been able to wrangle out of the mess, she’d have been quite tempted to scuttle the boat they’d taken when it was in view of a coastline but not an actual port). What she  _ hadn’t _ known (although that may have been just the slightest bit her fault for burning the itinerary rather than reading it) was that the day  _ after _ that… party for a pet possibly, whatever - thing she’d slipped out of within twenty minutes, there was  _ this _ purgatory. Some kind of ridiculous singles mixer masquerade; she couldn’t even entertain herself with the irony of meeting someone at an event where you couldn’t see most of the participants’ faces - Cass was wearing one of the few masks which left her face clearly visible, a silver filigree cat-like one. She doubted covering her face would have helped keep people away from her any with Bran directing just about any man that walked near him, and wasn’t talking to a different woman,  _ right fucking at her _ . Not to mention she  _ hated _ having her peripheral vision cut off.  _ And _ she couldn’t sneak out of this one because Bran was keeping her in his sight the entire time. Usually the man had slipped up by now, but every time she’d tried to leave he’d been right there to block the exit she’d been heading to.

Or maybe Bran wasn’t any better about things and she was the one off her game tonight. That wouldn’t be surprising. The twenty minutes spent at yesterday’s event had been some of the worst in recent memory, and that was including the hours she’d spent in the week leading up to the thing letting her anxiety get to her as she couldn’t stop herself from fixating on the neigh-inevitable results of being thrust into a group of people communicating in ways she didn’t understand and was expected to keep up with. She’d have been frayed enough without the thing that was making this party particularly excruciating, and not helping her be able to think or see any more clearly.

She watched the crimson drops of the blood from the cut the shattered crystal had made in her finger mix with the champagne that would flow out the through the crack as soon as she moved her hand as her thoughts turned back to what they weren’t able to leave for long - Fenris waiting in the rooms she’d been assigned  _ rather than being here with her like he was supposed to be _ .

It wasn’t Fenris’ fault he wasn’t here, if anything he had been even more angry than Cass had been when Bran told them about her plans for the evening, flanked by two chevaliers in full-armor. 

“Hawke. What do you think you’re  _ doing _ in here, wasting time with the elf when you’re  _ not even dressed _ ?” Bran may have been furious with her but unfortunately he’d learned better than to get too close to Fenris, even with witnesses around.

Given that Cass had a chess piece in her hand at the time, she thought the answer to the first part was fairly obvious and not worth bothering about. Besides, the second part of what Bran had asked was much more fun to answer, “Well, Bran - riddle me this,” she moved her knight to capture Fenris’ last bishop before turning to face the man, “If I’m so not dressed, what the fuck do  _ you _ think you’re doing in my rooms?” As far as she was concerned she  _ was _ dressed, even if her breasts were making it slightly difficult to breathe in the tunic that fit loosely on Fenris.

“I - well- that’s!”

Fenris toppled his king in surrender so he could focus on grinning preditorially at Bran. No one  _ ever _ wanted to finish a chess game with Cass, just because she had a slightly different definition of ‘winning’ that made traditional strategy useless against her. “Yes, Bran. If there’s anyone who doesn’t belong here, it’s  _ you _ .”

“ _ You will stay out of this, elf _ ! It does  _ not _ concern you!”

“If it’s about Cass, it  _ absolutely _ concerns me.” Fenris stood and strode over to Bran.

“For the last time, it is ‘ _ Viscount Hawke _ ’ in public!”

“Oh? Are my rooms public now?” Cass mused as she put the chess set away, “Is that why you and every prat in shining armor is wandering in unannounced?”

“Stop trying to be clever, Hawke!”

“It’s ‘ _ Viscount Hawke _ ’ in public,” she and Fenris cut Bran off in unison.

Bran swallowed and adjusted his collar. “Yes, well, we’ll just see who’s laughing tonight. Hawke, if you don’t manage to get yourself into something  _ presentable  _ in the next ten minutes, I’m sending the palace servants in with the dress you were  _ supposed _ to have worn to meet Fergus Cousland -”

“That pale pink  _ disaster _ with lace and bows?!” Cass curled her upper lip to sneer at the  _ thought _ of putting anything like  _ that _ on. “And the skirt that was all,” she flung her hands out around her hips as she searched for a word that could describe the abomination, “ _ poufy _ ?!”

“Yes.  _ That _ one. And the only thing I’m telling you about where it is, is that it  _ isn’t _ in here!”

“I can find it!”

“In ten minutes? No one’s  _ that _ good?”

“Is it in your rooms?”

Bran straightened, “You won’t get past the chevaliers.”

“Wasn’t Duke Prosper a chevalier?”

“ _ You will NOT discuss that incident here, do you understand me _ ? Besides, I’m sure  _ someone _ will be willing to lend you some appropriate attire if you force my hand - and pastels, lace, bows, and  _ bouffant _ skirts are all  _ very _ popular right now.”

“Fenris, we brought the dress from the Tevinter party, right?”

“You’re not finding that one either, Hawke!”

“So it’s in your rooms  _ with _ the pink one then, is it?” she turned to Fenris, “Have I mentioned how jealous I am you can wear your armor to all these things?”

Fenris smiled at her, but Bran cut him off before he could say anything, “Oh, no; the elf isn’t coming anywhere  _ near _ this! I’m not having him  _ sabotage _ another opportunity to  _ finally _ find you a decent husband! No bodyguards, or in this case ‘bodyguard,’ at this Hawke; just invited guests and their chaperones. And  _ you’re _ the invited one and  _ I’m _ your chaperone. And let’s face it, that elf of yours doesn’t exactly blend in, does he? Although if he wants to try and break in - and more than likely get himself arrested doing it - I suppose he’s more than welcome.” Bran turned and left the room with a sneer followed by his protection.

Cass set about pacing, “I can figure this out - I can find you a way in…” She tried to start examining the angles, pull at the threads she could see  _ if she just focused hard enough  _ \- she’d need to whip her mind into an absolute frenzy to do it, but  _ she had time _ .

Fenris grabbed her from behind and wound his arms around her before she’d even finished trying to lay out the problem in her mind, “Cass,  _ don’t _ waste your energy on this; I’ll be fine - I’ll be waiting for you.” He leaned his head against hers, “You need to concentrate on  _ you _ getting through this.” There was something off in his voice. It was like ‘sad’ but that wasn’t right and the harder she tried to figure out what it  _ was _ , the madder she got at herself for not just  _ knowing _ in the first place.

“I’m sorry…” she managed to whisper.

“ _ You _ don’t need to be.” He squeezed her tighter for a moment before letting her go to spin her around to face him. She couldn’t look in his eyes, but he put a hand to her cheek and she grabbed his wrist. “But I will make sure Bran is  _ incredibly _ sorry by the time we get back to Kirkwall. But that’s not going to help you now.”

“I don’t,” she gripped his wrist harder - she should have been concerned about leaving bruises but that was just too abstract for her in that moment. “There  _ is _ no helping me now, Fenris. I hate these things; I hate the things that aren’t even near as bad as these things. Maybe if I just try and focus on being mad about being there instead of how hard it is to be there, but I don’t - that’s not - I need something that’s going to make people go away  _ for _ me. Something that I don’t need to put much effort in and no one’s going to want to scrutinize too closely.”

Her grip must have finally started hurting him because he began to gently pry her fingers off, “No one seems to want to challenge their ‘Ice Queen’ too overtly. And Bran doesn’t know you brought that dress, so he couldn’t have sent a servant in to confiscate it.”

“But I didn’t -”

“I know Cass, but unless you tell me you think it’s definitely not going to help, I’m going to get it and help you put it on.”

She couldn’t tell him that; no one  _ did _ want to scrutinize the Ice Queen, and it was a persona that took minimal effort almost by definition.

And it had earned a mildly satisfactory disgruntled reaction from Bran when he re-entered their rooms to find Cass applying her kohl as Fenris finished lacing the dress.

She set the cracked glass down on the nearby balcony and sucked at her finger to try and stop the bleeding. She didn’t have the energy to go in search of another prop drink just at the moment, maybe she’d just accept the offer from the next idiot who thought the ability to carry a glass in each hand was impressive.

She cast her eyes around for her ‘escort.’ She found Bran about twenty feet away trying to direct  _ another _ masked twat in her direction, but this one was hesitating. And judging by the glare Bran shot her, she was fairly confident that word about just what happened when you got too close to the Ice Queen was  _ finally _ beginning to circulate. And she hadn’t even had to cut anything off anyone.

Unfortunately she didn’t have much time to enjoy the prospect of not being bothered because someone wearing the single most  _ ostentatious _ mask she’d ever seen was heading directly for her. The idea that a mask could be ostentatious by  _ Orlesian _ standards was ridiculous, but so was the mask itself. While she’d gotten used to not being able to see anyone’s face behind their mask, the lion mask decided to go one better and have a built-in mane that covered the neck and shoulders too. Although maybe the mask  _ had _ to use the mane because of the terrible, terrible likeness in the head. Without the mane she’d have thought the thing was supposed to be a sick nug or something. While Cass had no idea  _ how _ the man saw  _ anything _ , he apparently had no trouble seeing either her or the balcony as he settled himself against it next to her.

She’d give him one warning shot about how over the evening she was, “Look, I’ve already heard every single cat pun in existence and been offered more drinks than anyone could finish in a week, so if that’s all there was...” She waved her fingers at him then turned to give him her best deadpan glare. Or at least try to, she had no idea exactly where his face was under the stupid mask.

He crossed his arms, “I only came here to see you, you know.”

The mask was causing an odd, tinny echo to distort his voice. She flinched at the noise, “Yes, you and everyone else who’s stopped by to talk to me tonight; they’ve all found someone else to entertain them - now I don’t care if you need to take off that noxious mask to do it, but  _ go find them _ .”

The man grabbed her and pulled her as close as he could given his mask. She was ready to sink her nails into his gloved hands when he whispered, “I’d be more than happy to take this ridiculous thing off, Cass, but I’m fairly certain it’s the only thing keeping Bran from knowing it’s me.”

The tinny echo was still there, but not as bad as it was when Fenris was speaking at full volume, “What are you  _ doing _ here?” Cass tried to focus on being relieved Fenris was with her again rather than worried about what Bran would do if he realized that.

“Well, I thought I’d take Bran up on his offer. He said I was more than welcome to try and break in. I’m just sorry it took so long for someone in a mask I’d be able to use to keep anyone from seeing the tattoos to walk by so I could borrow it.”

“Oh, you borrowed it, did you?”

“And the clothes. I asked him if he had a problem with me doing it and he didn’t say anything. What’s that phrase you like using at Court - ‘ _ qui tacet consentit _ ’?”

She snickered, “I think the implication is that the other person  _ could _ respond and chose not to, but I guess the phrase could have been clearer about that.”

“Indeed.” He took her hand and rubbed his other along her arm, “So, Cass - care to dance?”

“I don’t know. I have a reputation as a  _ terrible _ dancer to uphold. I wouldn’t want people to start getting ideas about dancing with me.”

“Hm. That would be an unfortunate thing to happen. But I’m sure you could come up with something convincing about how you just need the right partner.”

“That I do.” She reached out to try and rub his ear but pouted at the mask in the way.

“Sorry, Cass - I don’t think even you could figure out a way to do that through this mask.”

“How do you  _ see _ through that mask anyway?”

“Fairly well, actually. I admit, I was pleasantly surprised. I’d offer to show you but…”

“Ugh, that fucking schmuck’s looking at us, isn’t he?”

“Yes, it’s a bit too bad you shouldn’t turn around to look for yourself, Cass. Bran seems utterly pleased with himself just at the moment.”

She laughed and reached a hand under the mane so she could get to his ears, “Well, then I think we should give him a show. Sometimes I think that man could really use a win or two.”

“I agree. And this was all his idea, after all.” 

He used a hand to keep the mask steady as she reluctantly surrendered his ear and slid her hand out so he could clasp it and lead her onto the dance floor for a waltz. She’d danced at parties before (making sure to ruin either the hem of her dress or the shoes of her partner, whichever she was more frustrated with during the dance, and unless her partner happened to be Sebastian, it was  _ always _ the later) and she’d danced with Fenris before, but this was the first time she’d ever danced with Fenris at a party. Actually, this was the first time she’d done  _ anything _ at a party without the knowledge of how much she hated being at the party scratching at the back of her thoughts. She doubted the peace would last for long, even Fenris couldn’t keep her attention away from the movements and noises that assaulted her nerves at these things indefinitely - but being able to enjoy herself, here, with Fenris, in public, without having to worry about Bran or her mother or anybody else looking over her shoulder all the time and judging her for this  _ and every single other thing _ was… nice. She liked it. She was having fun.

She could have fun and  _ hate _ that the only reason she was able to was because no one else knew she was having fun with Fenris… right?

Something must have changed in her face because as soon as the dance ended Fenris whispered to her, “Come on, let’s go back over by the balcony.”

She nodded and he pressed his thumbs against the corners of her eyes. She must have been starting to cry then. She leaned into him and he put an arm around her shoulder to lead her back to where she’d been when he came in.

Bran was waiting for them there and Cass was too upset to even enjoy how giddy the man was at seeing them so comfortable with each other. “Ah, excellent. I knew it was only a matter of time before  _ someone _ would manage to get through to you.” He leaned in and hissed at Cass, “I  _ told _ you the elf was only holding you back! See what happens when you get out from under his shadow? You can enjoy a perfectly nice, civilized evening!” Judging by Fenris’ grip tightening on her shoulder, Bran hadn’t bothered to hiss quietly enough. He deliberately addressed his next words to the man he clearly didn’t know was Fenris, “Now, can you point out your chaperone to me? We’re scheduled to leave for Kirkwall in the morning, but I’d like to at least…”

Increasingly agitated voices and snippets of conversation cut off Bran's musings and he turned to look away from Cass, Fenris, and the balcony and into the larger room. 

“Someone in a lion mask…”

“...with that Ferelden bitch playing at Viscount?”

“... _ really _ find Germain du Chalons tied up in a broom closet?”

Fenris ran a hand along her jaw, “I think that’s my cue to leave, Cass…”

She nodded and watched him disappear over the balcony. Once he was out of sight, she decided to resume her position leaning against the balcony glaring out in icy disapproval.

It took less than a minute for Bran to round on her completely livid, “ _ Where is he, Hawke? _ ”

“Where is  _ who _ , Bran?”

“That ‘ _ nobleman _ ’ you were dancing with!”

“Either it’s past your bedtime or you’ve had too much to drink. I wasn’t dancing with any noblemen tonight.”

“ _ Oh, I know full well you weren’t _ !”

“Well then why did you  _ ask _ me about it? Honestly Bran, is this some sort of ridiculous new game of yours?”

“I mean it, Hawke! Do you have  _ any _ idea who Germain du Chalons  _ is _ ?”

“No. And I can’t say I care. And as it looks like the party’s over because some pathetic old man got drunk and passed out in a closet, I’m going back to my rooms.”

“You will do  _ no such thing _ !”

“You really think you can stop me leaving  _ and _ deal with them?” she inclined her head to the chevaliers working their way across the room towards them.

“This isn’t over, Hawke!”

“It’s ‘Viscount Hawke’ in public, Bran.” Parting shot lobbed, Cass ignored her frothing ‘chaperone’ and stalked out of the hall in the direction of her rooms. She hadn’t even made it back to the residential wing when she spotted Fenris running down the crowded corridor towards her.

“ _ There _ you are, Cass!” he reached out to grab her arm and began leading her back to the suite, “They’re saying some lunatic attacked someone and snuck into the party Bran dragged you to. I  _ told _ the man you’d need your bodyguard! I think he may have been there for you, I found this,” Fenris raised the hand that wasn’t clasped around Cass’ arm and her mask dangled from his fingers, “in the hall on my way here. I’m not letting you out of my sight until they catch him.”

Cass reached up to touch her face. She hadn’t even noticed her mask had gone missing, but she had to admit, it was a nice touch to explain why he couldn’t be satisfied waiting for the chevaliers to investigate. “You don’t think that might be a long fucking time? This whole country’s absolutely infested with spies and assassins.”

“I told you, Cass,” he pulled her closer and smiled at her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until they catch him.”

She didn’t trust herself to continue the conversation without bursting out in laughter, so she just shook her head.

As soon as she heard the latchbolt click into place after she kicked the door to their rooms closed she fell into his arms. She reached up so she could rub her thumb on his ear as she whispered into his neck, “That was an  _ incredibly _ foolish thing for you to have done, Fenris.”

She felt him smile against her forehead, “There’s just something about you, Cass - it makes fools of all men. I, at least, understand what I’m doing when it tugs at me.”

“Hm. You almost make it sound like some sort of magic.”

“It’s nothing so common as that, Cass. Whatever it is, you’re the only one in the world with anything like it.”

“I’m the only one in the world with you, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Mm. My sentiments exactly.” He pressed his nose into her cheek and she leaned away slightly so they could kiss. It was slow, and gentle - just their lips pressing together. A gesture of reassurance, not urgency.

But as reassuring and comforting as it was, it was still physical contact, and it was only a matter of time before it started becoming painful for her. She decided to break the kiss before that happened - the past few days had involved more social interaction than she liked in a month, and there was no way they’d heard the last from Bran that night.

Fenris seemed to be thinking along similar lines, “Come on, we should get you out of that dress before Bran decides to make a nuisance of himself.” She felt him begin to pull at its laces.

She’d just finished pulling the knot in the sash that kept her robe closed when Bran flung open the door and stormed into the room.

“Close the fucking door, Bran!” She pulled the robe tighter around herself. “Seriously, what the  _ fuck _ is your problem? Is a fucking knock too much to fucking ask?”

Bran glowered at her but did, at least, finally bother to close the door.

“Oh, the two of you know  _ exactly _ what my problem is - but it’s going to be  _ your _ problem very shortly. You’ve  _ really _ done it this time, elf! And since neither of you has the breeding to already know this, I’m just going to tell you - that man you knocked out and left bound and gagged in the closet? That was Duke Germain du Chalons, Empress Celene’s  _ uncle _ and a member of the Council of Heralds!”

Cass wasn’t impressed by any of those facts. “And your point?”

“My point is this: as soon as I’m done with you in here, I’m going straight for the guards and telling them  _ exactly _ who was responsible for what happened - and where to find him. And then you will both  _ wish _ you’d let the Tevinters take him!”

Fenris clenched his fists and took a step towards Bran, but Cass threw an arm in front of him to stop him. He turned to look at her but she didn’t have much time to notice because as soon as she was sure he’d stopped, she threw back her head and laughed.

“ _ What is so FUNNY, Hawke! _ ”

Cass let out a few final peals of laughter before she shook her head and snapped her eyes to Bran’s. “That pathetic, little, empty threat of yours, Bran.  _ That’s  _ what’s so funny.”

“It is  _ not _ an empty threat!”

“Alright then. Call the guards. After all, why wait? And besides, I want to  _ watch _ you tell them everything.”

Bran’s mouth was quivering, “Don’t think I won’t!”

“Oh, I don’t  _ think _ you won’t, Bran - I fucking  _ know _ you won’t. Because I know exactly what will happen if you  _ do _ .”

“I’ll  _ finally _ be rid of that meddling elf and just  _ might _ be able to turn you into something serviceable!”

“From the end of a noose? I think not, Bran.” She drew back her lips and grinned at him.

“What are you  _ talking _ about, Hawke!  _ I’m _ not the one who assaulted a member of the Council of Heralds!”

“No, you’re not. But it  _ was _ all your idea.”

“ _ What _ ?” Bran hissed in disbelief.

“Fenris,” Cass inclined her head in his direction. “Who was the one who suggested you come to the party, and that you do it in a way that would get you arrested?”

Fenris narrowed his eyes slightly before matching her grin and turning to Bran, “The  _ esteemed _ Seneschal’s.”

“Yes, that’s my recollection too. And the man was even foolish enough to say it in front of witnesses.” Cass raised her left hand and rubbed her thumb in small circles over the tips of her first two fingers.

“That - that is  _ not _ what I meant!”

“I don’t care what you meant,” she retorted. “I care what I can make it _sound_ _like_ you meant. And that’s not even getting _into_ what we could have been up to _at_ the party. You spent all night tossing men my way, I wonder which one of them could have been our target.”

“ _ Our _ target?” The color was starting to drain from the man’s face.

“Yes, Bran,  _ our _ target. You’re not the only one who saw me with Fenris at the party, and you came over to talk with us too. Such suspicious behaviour, Bran. And really quite crude coming from the ringleader.”

“ _ Ringleader? _ ”

“Oh come now, Bran - you heard the whispers. I’m just some Ferelden bitch playing at Viscount. And Fenris is an elf. I don’t think the Orlesian nobility is going to be at all interested in hearing that either one of us could have come up with something like this on our own. Besides, how much work did you put in recently making sure people would come to seek me out tonight?”

“I - well - that’s!”

“That’s  _ it _ , Bran. The end. Game over. The final curtain falling. The  _ last _ time you drag me to another one of these things.” She crossed her arms at him, “Unless of course, you want  _ me _ to break down from the pressure and confess everything to the guards. The poor, poor little Ferelden farm girl who just got dragged in way over her head and couldn’t take it anymore and so threw herself on the mercy of her betters.”

“You have  _ never _ been a poor little girl!”

“Well, you know that; but do you think they’ll have any interest in believing that? Or do you think they’ll be satisfied with the first easy answer they can find that lets them sleep at night?”

Bran set his jaw and glared between them, “Fine, Hawke. You may have managed to slither around the truth and get that pet of yours out of  _ yet another _ mess, but that’s  _ not _ going to get you out of taking a husband.”

“I don’t  _ need _ to get out of taking a husband, Bran.”

“Why - I don’t -  _ WHAT _ ?”

Cass ignored Bran’s stumbling attempts to fit the pieces she’d just laid out before him together and reached out for Fenris. He took her hand and pulled her to his chest and she wound an arm over his shoulder. She probably could have dragged things out more but she was  _ so _ tired of talking and cracking in front of Bran just wasn’t an option.

“ _ Impossible _ !” Bran was so livid he was barely audible anymore, “I  _ told you _ before the coronation this was  _ completely unacceptable _ !”

“Hm, yes.” Cass used a finger on the hand that wasn’t slung over Fenris’ shoulder to play with the string in the tunic she’d been wearing before Bran’s initial interruption, “But I only agreed on the grounds I wasn’t dedicated. And you went and fixed that, didn’t you Bran.”

“You’re  _ lying _ , Hawke! This is another one of your stories that’s just designed to distract me from what’s  _ really _ going on! There is  _ no Chantry in all Thedas _ that would -  _ VALE _ !”

Sebastian had been only too happy to find a sympathetic Chantry sister willing to perform the ceremony and witness the vows. And distract Bran by telling him about notable single noblemen in Starkhaven to keep the Seneschal busy at the time.

“An  _ elf _ ! A  _ fugitive  _ elf! You’re going to throw your life away for  _ that _ ?”

“ _ No _ , Bran.” She turned from the intruder. He was irrelevant noise. Her next words were only for Fenris - he was the only one who deserved them, or would understand them. “I’m going to spend my life with the man I love. Who, through some miracle I will never understand, actually  _ loves me back _ .” She didn’t think she’d managed to say everything out loud, but Fenris had heard her anyway, like he always did. He smiled at her and pressed his hands to her face to wipe the tears from her eyes again.

Bran must have been saying something Cass wasn’t hearing because Fenris’ eyes narrowed at something behind her and he whispered, “Is he done?”

Cass shook her head, she had picked this fight - a rare thing for her, she usually preferred letting opponents fight with themselves until they were too confused to continue, a strategy that saved her considerable effort over the years Anders would whine at her - she would finish it.

“I am right behind you, Cass.” He lowered his hands and kissed her cheek.

Cass doubted she had missed anything important during the time she’d spent blissfully unaware of the Seneschal’s presence. He was in the middle of one of his favorite ways to berate her, “Your mother would  _ disown _ you for this; your grandparents would have you run out of the city - out of the  _ Free Marches _ !”

“Well, Bran, I never met my grandparents, but that does sound like them. And the rank, self-serving hypocrisy  _ is _ right up my mother’s alley. But in case you’ve forgotten, Bran - they’re dead. They don’t have the  _ fucking _ luxury of an opinion. And even if they weren’t and had one and you’re right about what it would be: I don’t give a  _ fuck _ . I’d tell them to rot and their opinions along with them. Kind of like I’m telling  _ you _ .”

“And just how do you think you’re going to explain having an escaped elven slave for a husband?”

“Easy: I’m not. I don’t need to.”

“What do you mean you  _ don’t need to _ ? You think people won’t find out? That you won’t make Kirkwall the laughing stock of Thedas?”

“Why should anyone find out, Bran? It’s not anyone else’s business - the only reason I even told  _ you _ is because you made it abundantly clear you had no intention of listening to my very reasonable objections to your meddling in my personal life.”

“You can’t keep something like  _ this _ a secret, Hawke!”

“Bran, you really have to stop making these ridiculous leaps in logic; I didn’t say  _ anything _ about keeping it a secret. Just because I don’t feel a particular  _ need _ for everyone to know doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of it.” She cocked her head and went back to grinning at him, “But  _ you _ are, aren’t you? And you know what’s a  _ really _ good way to get people very interested in whether or not I have a husband? Pushing me into  _ ridiculous _ events like tonight’s where every participant is thoroughly vetted. You’re just lucky I was smart enough to make sure no one would have any lingering interest, but I’m not  _ about _ to do you any more favors.”

Bran was opening and closing his mouth as he turned purple and sputtering disconnected syllables, “You - He -  _ How _ ?”

“How is it that I’m the one who married Fenris and he’s the one who took Duke Challenge down a few pegs and  _ you’re _ the one who has to change your plans over things? I guess it’s just another way life is so  _ thoroughly _ un- _ fucking _ -fair, isn’t it?” 

She turned to Fenris and jerked her head in Bran’s direction. He started closing on the Seneschal. Cass could still see him when she heard Bran drawl from the door, “We leave first thing in the morning!” and the slam of the door behind him.

Fenris started walking again and she heard the deadbolt click. “Hm, good riddance - that man never  _ has _ cared how long he overstays his welcome.”

Cass turned back to her husband, “I think you need to  _ be _ welcome before you can overstay it.”

She stood, waiting for him to reach her, and met his embrace once he did. He pressed a kiss to her neck, “You know this means we’ll have to tell Aveline and Varric as soon as we get back to Kirkwall, right?”

“No!” Cass pouted and tried to curl strands of his hair around her fingers even though it was too short to be able to, “Varric’s just going to ask all sorts of obnoxious, personal questions that are  _ none _ of his, or whatever voyeuristic plebeians are reading his copper dreadfuls, business, and you  _ know _ Aveline’s just going to use this as an excuse to make me go to another party!”

“Hm. Very true, and very likely. But they’re going to be worse about things if they end up hearing about this because Bran gets drunk at the Hanged Man because he  _ still _ thinks no one will overhear him there and starts complaining about it.”

She kept pouting as she gave up on his hair and switched to rubbing his ear, “Can we have Orana tell them instead? That way I don’t have to change my plan to hide in bed for a week once we’re back in Kirkwall.”

She felt him smile against her neck, “I think you might be able to talk me into that…”

She tried to laugh. She  _ wanted _ to be able to laugh and enjoy the rest of the night with her husband, but she just - couldn’t. What should have been the absurdly simple activity of spending an evening at a party had just taken too much out of her. And what little she’d had left she’d had to use blackmailing Bran with what she and Fenris had done that trip - fortunately that  _ had _ been absurdly simple.

“Come on,” he slid his hands down her back and squeezed her thighs. She leaned into him and jumped a bit so he could hold her legs above his hips and walk to the chez lounge by the fireplace and then laid them down on it.

He grabbed the blanket to wrap it over her as she pulled at the loops the string in his tunic was laced through. He put his chin on her head and she felt him laugh, “You know, Cass - one of these days you’re going to run out of new ways to ruin all my shirts.”

She tugged at the loops harder, “I can’t ruin  _ all _ your shirts this way, Fenris. Most of them don’t have these.”

“Hm. I suppose that’s true. Still, I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with - you have such an amazing mind,” he finished adjusting the blanket and ran his fingers through her hair, “my utterly mesmerizing wife.”

Cass wanted to say, ‘And I’m so grateful you’re my husband,’ but based on the huff of laughter Fenris let out once she was finished speaking, she imagined she’d once again not managed anything close as she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
